I suppose he is the king. “So you were hoping...”
“That you’d be so disgusted you’d laugh in his face.” He chuckled. “I suppose the fact that you didn’t is a compliment, of a sort.”
“You were very convincing as a boor,” Raesinia said. “But I need your father’s help.”
“That’s how he likes to operate,” Matthew said bitterly. “Getting himself into a position where he has what everybody needs and then exacting his price.”
Raesinia set her wineglass down and looked across at him. The second prince cut a lean, handsome figure in the light from the fire, shadows playing across his brooding features.
“Are you going to take his offer?” Matthew said, after a moment.
“That gets right to the heart of things, doesn’t it?” Raesinia said. “I’m not any more eager to marry you than vice versa. No offense.”
“None taken,” Matthew said, waving vaguely.
“But at the moment we are precariously balanced. If the war goes well, I may be able to push back. If it goes badly...” She shook her head. “You know him better than I do. Is there any chance of convincing him to accept an alternate solution?”
“The man has a mind like a limpet. He grabs on to an idea and doesn’t let go, not for anything.” Matthew stared morosely into the fire. “He hates fighting with his advisers. If you can get Goodman on your side—”
“That seems unlikely. Master Goodman is convinced we owe him quite a lot of money.”
Matthew winced. “That’s always a bad position to be in.”
There was an awkward silence, broken by the pop of wood collapsing in the fire.
“Still,” Raesinia said. “It’s nice to know we have a common cause.”
“Even if we don’t have any way to actually do anything about it?” He looked up. “Sorry. I suppose you’re right. Come, let’s have dinner, properly this time. I promise not to be boring.”
A pull on a bell cord brought the servants running, and Raesinia thought she detected some aggrieved looks as they hurried to get dinner started. True to his word, Matthew was transformed, utterly unlike the clod he’d convincingly impersonated the other night. He told hunting stories while uniformed waiters brought in a delicate soup garnished with rings of shellfish, and managed to make Raesinia laugh hard enough that she knocked a half dozen empty shells across the room. The second course was greens with a lemon sauce, and Matthew segued into a lengthy anecdote about a friend’s amorous misadventures.
“...so he says, ‘I’d love to, my lady, but the dogs are still down there!’” Raesinia barked a laugh, and Matthew beamed. He really was a born storyteller, able to perfectly imitate the tone of an aggrieved housewife or anxious innkeeper. His narrow face seemed to come alive as he talked, and Raesinia was reminded for a moment of Danton Aurenne, the spellbinding orator who’d been the focal point of the revolution. She was fairly sure there was no magic at work here, though. Her binding hadn’t given her any twinges of warning.
“It was all right in the end, of course,” he went on. “He ended up marrying poor old Rosalind, and Ella eventually found her merchant’s son.” Matthew went quiet for a moment, perhaps reflecting that his choice of subject might not be ideal under their current circumstances. He cleared his throat. “I understand times have been quite interesting in Vordan of late as well.”
“Interesting is not the word I’d use,” Raesinia said. “Terrifying, maybe.”
“Was it as bad as they say?”
Raesinia paused. There were some stories she couldn’t tell, of course. How she’d escaped from Ohnlei by jumping off a tower and breaking her head open every night. The time she’d been shot in the head by a Concordat traitor and spent hours pinned on a rock like a butterfly, upside down and underwater. How she’d been kidnapped by the Penitent Damned called Ionkovo, and how she’d turned the tables on him later in a spectacularly gory fashion.
I can’t tell him anything, can I? It wasn’t just the magic and the secrets she had to keep. Looking at Matthew, with his pretty blue eyes and stories about climbing over rooftops to help friends meet their lovers, felt like staring into a different world. It was a world she’d been born into, a world she’d been meant for, but it had been taken away from her by disease and dark magic. I was supposed to be like him. Not frivolous, exactly. It wasn’t his fault. He’d just never been down to the sharp end, where things balance on the edge of a knife and pretenses are stripped away.
“It was... pretty bad, yes.” Raesinia blinked and shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” Matthew said. “Obviously it’s something you’d rather not think about.”
It’s not that, Raesinia thought. It’s just something I can’t inflict on you.
Instead, she took a deep breath and told him a story from the old days, before her brother had died. It was a good story, which ended with an arrogant wine steward getting his comeuppance in a stable full of horseshit. Telling it made Raesinia miss Dominic more than she had for years. It had been ages since she’d even thought about her brother. It seemed strange now that there had been a time when he’d been the most important person in her world, after her father. I would have done anything to get their approval. They’d gotten in trouble for shoving the wine steward, but a little scolding from her tutor was worth it if she made Dominic smile.
It felt, for one evening, like she’d been allowed to visit the world she’d lost. Clever, handsome princes who made her laugh, spectacular food, the quiet bustle of servants moving all around. It was life as it might have been.
“Thank you,” she said, when the dessert plates had been cleared away. “This was a wonderful evening.”
“It was,” he said. There was a touch of sadness in his eyes. “Let me apologize again.”
“You’ve apologized enough for last time—”
“Not for that. For my father.” Matthew shook his head. “I wish we’d been able to meet under better circumstances.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Raesinia said, aware that there were still servants all around them.
Matthew nodded distantly, but his expression was resigned. He thinks there’s nothing we can do. That I’m going to have to take Georg’s offer, and we’ll have to go through with it.
It made her even more determined to escape from the trap the Borelgai had laid. On top of everything else, Matthew doesn’t deserve to be used like this.
15
Marcus
The orders had come in just after dark, as the Second Division was settling back into camp. Marcus scanned through them, suppressing a groan. Another dawn march. Another battle tomorrow. He turned the page. At least we won’t be right in the middle of it.
“Thank you,” he told the young lieutenant who’d brought the pages. “Tell General Kurot I understand, and we’ll be ready.”